


We've Just Begun to Dream

by Hammocker



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Disney World & Disneyland, Epcot, Fluff, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Retro Disney Things, Tony-centric, Vacation, Walt Disney World
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-03 16:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11535801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: Tony didn't do nostalgia, he didn't do theme parks, and he certainly didn't do reminders of his father. As it happened, Steve wanted to subject him to all of these things at once. Why Tony agreed, he wasn't entirely sure.A rewrite and continuation of "Reaching Out to Meet Your Needs."





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel it's an appropriate time to restart this fic. I've been meaning to for a while, since I was dissatisfied with my planning and execution of the idea on the first try. I would have put it off longer, but, over the weekend, it was announced that the Universe of Energy pavilion at Epcot would be closing next month to make way for a new Guardians of the Galaxy based attraction. Seeing as Energy is my personal favorite pavilion and I intend to give it more time in this rewrite, well, now is the time.
> 
> I don't know if or when I'll get this done, but I'm dedicating this fic to the Universe of Energy. It's more than a little ridiculous, but that's what I'm gonna do. The fic is still meant to be primarily about Tony working out some issues with Epcot as a very specific backdrop. I'm a fanfic writer who happens to care a lot about Epcot, not a Disney marketer.

Tony didn’t look over his mail often. His actual, physical mail, anyway. That was a job for secretaries and interns and Pepper before he promoted her. It got filtered and picked through for him so he only saw the most dire messages. Tony didn’t have time to go through bills and ads and certainly not fan mail.

Yet, despite the barriers he’d put in place to keep any mail firmly off his desk, here he stood in the morning, a pile of mail on his kitchen table. It was not a sight he was wont to wake up to.

It was only a short stack. Definitely not the absurd amounts that he knew people sent every day. It was enough to give the impression of a perfectly normal kitchen, something you’d see in a middle-class home rather than a high-tech facility. He could almost forget the warehouses sitting just outside.

Steve. Tony couldn’t help a fond sigh. No matter how much they went through and how weird things got, Steve never stopped trying to find normality for both of them. Steve did his own laundry and took out the trash and washed plates by hand. In turn, Tony had started mimicking them, cooking meals when he felt like it. It wasn’t a bad deal all around.

He hadn’t expected Steve to start directing mail to their address, though; that seemed like a lot of effort for a small touch. But hey, it was something to do while he waited for water to boil.

Making his own coffee was another thing Steve had Tony doing. Sure, he could have Friday do it for him in the wall-mounted coffee maker, but it wasn’t so bad doing it himself. Boil some water, plop the ground coffee beans in the thing, press a button, and wait for coffee to magically appear in the pitcher. No problem.

Tony sat down at the kitchen table and slid the pile over to himself. He gave it a cursory glance and found that, indeed, some of it was addressed to him. There was stuff in there for Steve too, which he shuffled aside. No need to go through his boyfriend’s mail. 

He leaned back in his chair and started flipping through the envelopes. Junk mail ads, what looked like a fan letter in a purple envelope, some confirmation on a research grant, an electricity bill that was most certainly not his responsibility to deal with…

There was one thing he couldn’t do with electronic spam mail, something he’d always thought of doing in the back of his head. Without a care in the world, Tony tossed the top envelope over his shoulder, sending it spinning to who-knew-where. A smile curled over his face. He did it again. And again. And again. It didn’t get old.

He kept doing it until he got to a particularly interesting piece of mail. One thicker than the rest and with a distinctive, mouse-eared emblem decorating its front. Addressed from Florida. Oh, hell, this again?

Despite himself Tony didn’t throw the envelope on the floor. He tore it open and pulled out the papers inside. Sure enough, inside was a letter from one of Disney’s PR suits, plus a bunch of pamphlets for their ridiculous resort. Ew.

Tony rolled his eyes. Every year, it was the same. They never got the message. He had absolutely no interest in wasting his time at some tacky tourist trap. Tony had real work to do and no use for overpriced, nostalgia-baiting crap. 

The ringer on the kettle went off just then, and he stood up, letter still in hand, to turn off the burner. He read it over half-heartedly as he poured the water into the coffeemaker. “Dear Mr. Stark, greetings from the Walt Disney Company…” Yadda yadda yadda. “We’re happy to invite you to stay at our resorts as a token of appreciation for a long-time friendship.” Psh. “Friendship.” Like Tony had ever cared about their company, or vice versa. His dad was the one who’d shaken hands with dear old uncle Walt long before Tony was around. The most they interacted anymore was Disney occasionally buying new tech off of Stark Industries. It was hardly friendship.

Tony could have vacationed in Key West or the Caribbean or the moon, anywhere he could think of, so what made them think he’d stay at their little setup? No way was he getting caught at the plastic kingdom, or, God help him, Epcot. Tony shuddered to think of the last time he’d been to the place, back when his parents were-

Tony stopped himself. He wasn’t doing this. It was not a good experience; that was the long and short of it. It was stupid, Tony insisted to himself. It’d only be more stupid to go back.

With that in mind, Tony ripped the letter in half and tossed it among the rest of the junk mail. Tony would clean up the strewn paper once he got his fix. 

As he waited for his morning ambrosia to trickle its way into the pitcher, he heard the elevator slide open in the next room. So that’s where his pillow went.

Tony didn’t shout to Steve, just stood where he was and waited. Some people couldn’t just get up and go, after all; it only made sense for the early bird between them to do the walking. He listened as footsteps came closer and closer to the kitchen, culminating at the doorway.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve said from across the room.

“Mornin’ Steve,” Tony said, glancing over his shoulder. “Having fun making the rest of us look like lazy bums?”

Steve chuckled as he came up behind to hug Tony.

“You could always join me sometime.”

“Mm, I don’t know where you get that confidence in my abilities.”

“Maybe from all the times you’ve saved everyone’s hide.” Steve paused, eyes drifting downward. “Did you really have to throw the mail everywhere?”

“Nope, I did not, but I wanted to and seeing as we live in a free country...”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve said, kissing him on the top of the head before separating once more and bending down to retrieve the discarded mail.

Tony took the opportunity to take the pitcher and pour the precious fluid it had collected into a mug.

“I would have gotten those,” he insisted. “Eventually.”

“I got them now,” Steve said, organizing everything back on the kitchen table. As he got to the torn stationary, though, he took pause. Oh, no.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding the pieces up together.

“Nothing, nothing,” Tony said, wanting to grab it away from Steve, but unable to find the motivation or heart to do so. “It shouldn’t even have gotten through to me, I get this stuff filtered for a reason.”

“You filter out invitations?” Steve asked, attention turning to the forgotten pamphlets.

“Well, yeah, you know how many I get every day, all day, year round?”

Steve shrugged and casually glanced over the tacky ads.

“A lot, I’ll bet,” he said, like it was just that simple. “You been there before?”

“What, to Disney?” Tony sat down with his coffee, leaning back in the chair. “Psh, sure, thirty years ago.”

“You haven’t been back since?”

“God, no,” Tony said, wincing at the idea. “I don’t want to set foot in Florida, let alone that place.”

Steve’s brow crinkled, like he didn’t think Florida was a backwater hole of a state.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I’m not going on vacation just to hang around some half-baked resort and kill my back in overcrowded parks. I could be getting things done instead.”

“So why’d you go at all?” Steve asked. “Just because of Howard?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he admitted. “Don’t know why he agreed to go. He stopped being involved when his buddy Walt died. We only even went once. And he was a jackass the entire time.”

Steve’s brow scrunched up at that. “Howard and- Walt Disney?”

“Yup.” Tony rolled his eyes at how perfect that combination was. “The dreamers just find each other, I guess.”

“Were you invited back then?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. Still get the damn things every year. The Mouse just can’t take no for an answer.”

“You’re not curious at all about seeing it again?”

“Nope,” Tony chirped, smiling at his own capability in avoiding that fantasy money drain for so many years. “That would be nostalgia, Steve, and I don’t do nostalgia.”

For a moment, Tony worried that Steve might push, like he usually did. He hesitated to reply, still looking down at the invitation. Tony held his breath.

“Guess some dreamers only like to look forward,” Steve said at last, shrugging. 

Tony about sputtered on his coffee. Steve gathered the pamphlets and the torn letter up and pushed them back into the envelope. He placed them on the table like he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, giving Steve an accusatory glare. “I don’t “dream,” I invent.”

“Iron Man had to start somewhere,” Steve insisted, keeping his casual demeanor.

Something about the tone Steve used had Tony drawing his shoulders up.

“Iron Man happened because I “dreamed” up weapons and didn’t care what anyone did with them.”

Tony barely even realized what he was doing before his coffee was against his chest. Only then did he realize he’d taken up a closed-off, wounded animal posture. It didn’t take more than second for Steve to notice.

Steve stepped around the table to come to his side. He leaned down and put his arms around Tony, bumping his forehead against Tony’s temple to murmur in his ear.

“You’ve saved so many more people than you’ve ever hurt, Tony,” he said. “It’s not fair, you saying those things about yourself.”

Tony huffed, but accepted Steve’s hold. No matter how many times Steve told him to let go of that lingering guilt, it never seemed to sink in all the way. Tony always seemed to circle back around, but it wasn’t so bad, because Steve was there to help. Even when things were rocky, or when Tony was being unreasonable, he always wanted to help. And he always loved Tony, despite having every reason not to. He was something else alright.

“You want more coffee?” Steve asked after a good, long moment of trying to squeeze the hurt out of Tony.

“Yes, please,” he sighed. “You’re a lifesaver, Steve.”

Steve just laughed, took his mug, and turned to head back over to the counter. He talked about Tony saving people, but Steve had always been the one saving him, in more ways than one. Tony wasn’t sure if he’d be as stable or capable or confident as he was without Steve. Somehow, he always seemed to know what Tony needed, like his very own sixth sense.

Tony was especially glad that Steve knew when not to push too far. He didn’t need to talk too much about the past, and he certainly didn’t need to talk about that awful theme park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't tell the other Disney parks superfans I'm writing this. They would have my head on a plate for so many things. I mean nothing in this fic disrespectfully, but I'm not sure it will come off that way to everyone.


	2. Chapter 2

A couple days passed without too much happening. No inter-dimensional warlords or mutant beasts trying to destroy the Earth, no Asgardian thugs coming down to destroy New York, nothing interesting. It gave Tony plenty of opportunities to work and still have time to spare for friends.

Steve called him up to their suite early that particular night, and, by the smell, he’d decided to make it a parmigiana night. Now, Tony liked the way Steve did a lot of things, but he especially liked the way Steve cooked. It was always so homey, in that special, straight-out-of-the-1940s, kind of way. Tony could only hope that Steve would be wearing a period-appropriate frilly apron. Tony wandered towards the kitchen like a blind, hungry parm zombie.

As he got close, though, the music coming from the kitchen grew more and more apparent. It sounded, put bluntly, old, but not as old as what Steve usually liked when he was feeling homesick. To make matters even worse, it was giving Tony some serious deja vu. It was like hearing music from a dream he’d forgotten.

Once he got to the kitchen threshold, though, the music cut, just like that, leaving only the sound of Steve shuffling around in the kitchen. Steve must have told Friday to stop upon seeing him. Huh.

“Hey, Tony!” Steve said, turning like clockwork to see him. “I- I thought you’d like it if I made dinner.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve. Steve wasn’t wrong in his assessment, but something about how he said it made Tony wonder.

“You’ve been cooking so much lately, it didn’t seem fair, so…”

Steve trailed off, as though he expected someone else to finish the sentence. Tony couldn’t remember him ever doing something like that before.

“I don’t mind cooking, Steve, I really don’t.” Tony paced up to Steve and leaned over to see his face. “You feeling okay?”

“What, me?” Steve said, meeting his eyes with an uncertain smile. “Of course I’m okay, I can’t get sick and things are fine. What would be bothering me?”

“Good question,” Tony mumbled. He hesitated to push any further, an anxiety bubbling up in his chest.

Tony discreetly sat down at the table, watching Steve as he pulled out the parm and retrieved some plates. He was suddenly too aware of both his own and Steve’s exact motions. In a word, Steve seemed uncomfortable, and it was making Tony uncomfortable as well. It was setting off every worry and anxiety and worst-case-scenario he could possibly think of.

He wasn’t exactly hungry by the time Steve placed a slice of parm in front of him.

For better or worse, Steve didn’t touch his food either. He had his fork in his hand, but he just kept staring at- something. If he didn’t know Steve, Tony would have thought that he was trying to get something from him. It being Steve, though, it struck him more as bottling. The whole thing was absolutely unbearable.

“Steve,” Tony finally said. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Steve focused on Tony again, his eyes still a little too wide and his lips twitching as whatever was on his mind bubbled to the surface.

“We’re going to Walt Disney World.”

For a moment, Tony realized that Steve suddenly seemed normal again, his eyes focusing and his expression softening. Then he became aware of exactly what Steve had said and he felt the blood flow out of his face.

“Beg your pardon?”

“I’ve already got plans all in order, hotel reservations, tickets, everything, you won’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I- what?” Tony’s brain had ground to a halt and articulation was suddenly a foreign concept. “Steve, we can’t just- we’ve got- things. That we need to do. Here.”

“Taken care of,” Steve assured him. “I talked to Fury, the team, Pepper, everyone who needs to know. We’ve got a week off in early Fall that we’ll take.”

Tony couldn’t find words. He could only gape at Steve in an effort to get across his shock.

Steve’s smile fell a bit, but he put in effort to keep it up. Worry crept into his eyes, an uncertainty that Tony recognized as his “Oh God, was this a mistake?” face. It was lucky that Tony noticed it, seeing that his own train of thought was way off the rails and he could hardly make sense of anything himself.

“But- you can’t- I- I-” Tony felt as though his face was simultaneously flushed and pale as he desperately searched for words.

“Breathe, Tony, breathe,” Steve prompted.

Tony heeded his words, taking in a long breath through his nose before shakily let it out.

“Peter could get himself killed without me around!” he finally settled on.

Steve blinked at him before he coughed out a laugh.

“Tony, he’s almost nineteen,” Steve said, relief visibly washing over him. “He’s got his own apartment, he’s got a job, he’s got plenty of stuff from you. I think he can take care of himself.”

“He’s a kid!” Tony insisted.

“I was running the streets when I was thirteen, a skinny little kid like me. You think he can’t handle himself?” Steve was stifling a smile now, clearly aware of Tony’s stretch of reasoning. “It’s not about Peter anyway, it’s about you.”

“Yes, and about how you went behind my back, setting this up!”

“Oh, come on.” Steve crossed his arms, a sternness entering his expression. “You’ve sprung vacations on me three times now.”

Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat, searching for any excuse he could think of. “Yeah, but nothing this- tacky.”

“Well, I thought the ski lodge was tacky,” Steve said, shrugging. “Still had a good time being with you.”

Tony grunted an acknowledgement, but he hated to admit that Steve was right. Why’d he have to make so much sense?

“Look, I won’t make you come. Couldn’t if I tried. But I won’t have nearly as much fun if I go alone, and I know you’ll be lonely.”

“No, I’d have Rhodey and Peter and the team,” Tony said, the words coming out as a pathetic murmur. “Same difference.”

Steve gave a sympathetic crinkle of his brow, but Tony knew that he wasn’t buying it for a second. Steve leaned forward over the table, eyes big and wide and pleading.

“Ple-ease?”

Tony stared up into Steve’s face, into those sweetest of sweet blue eyes. It wasn’t like Steve was doing any of this out of malice; he obviously wanted to have a good time with him, and Tony knew that his own baggage was getting in the way of any rational thought on the subject. And Steve wanted to go so much. Was it really fair for Tony to just turn him down flat?

“Okay,” he conceded at last. “I guess- well, nothing can be all bad with you around.”

Steve jumped from his seat and came over to Tony’s side of the table. Tony scrunched his brow at Steve before he found himself being about crushed in those overzealous, serum-enhanced arms.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Steve repeated like a mantra, lifting Tony out of his seat. “We’re gonna have fun, I promise.”

“Don’t- don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Tony said, squirming in his grasp as his breathing shortened. “Steve- air.”

“Sorry.” Steve loosened his grip, letting Tony sit back down and backing away so he could look Tony in the eye.

Tony gasped in some breaths and shook his head. He couldn’t help but smile; even when he was upset, a crushing Steve hug always helped.

“So. You’re not breaking up with me then?” he asked.

“What?” Steve asked, eyes widening. “Where’d you get that idea?”

Tony had to laugh, not for anything funny, but for relief. What was he doing, worrying so much? Of course Steve wasn’t going to dump him. Steve loved him. Tony had a hard time fathoming why, but he did. Tony wasn’t that unbearable. Was he?

“Never hold back like that again, please,” Tony sighed. “You could have told me earlier and saved us both a lot of worrying.”

“Would you have stopped me if I told you before I got tickets?”

“Yeah, probably,” Tony admitted without hesitation. “But, my God, you’re awful when you want to say something and don’t.”

Steve just laughed, reaching up to scratch at his scalp.

“I was kinda thinking I’d make you unwrap the stuff they’re sending, actually. Surprise.”

“Well, thank God you-” Tony’s thought process ground to a halt as he realized what was said. “Stuff? What stuff? Who’s sending us things and why?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve reached across the table, resting his hand at the midpoint between them in a silent invitation. “I’ve got everything taken care of.”

Tony let out a sniff of laughter and reached out to take Steve’s hand.

“Yeah, don’t you always?”

Steve didn’t answer, just smiled and stuck his fork in the parm. It was as if Tony was suddenly reminded of the food as well, just then, and he followed Steve’s example. After all, what was the worst that could happen?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, the Energy pavilion at Epcot will see its final riders and, as I write this, the last ride has just ended in a poorly timed evacuation. I had really hoped I might finish this fic before that happened, but that's just not how it is. It hurts my heart to see Universe of Energy go, but I hope this fic will be an at least decent tribute. I'm sure other Epcot fans won't see it that way, but I suppose mourning is different for everyone.

The jet’s motor hummed in Tony’s ears as he sat staring at the band around his wrist. He couldn’t believe that he and Steve were already on their way to Florida. After a month of trying to forget about their plans and a week of stalling on packing, Steve had finally dragged him to their flight. It was a little terrifying.

The “stuff” Steve had talked about turned out to be what they called “MagicBands.” RFID technology that stored all their necessary information in one convenient little tracking device. Of course, Steve couldn’t have just gotten them both solid color straps, no, he had to go out of his way to get Tony a special band, a Figment band even. Or, that’s what he’d been told the stupid purple dragon’s name was. He only vaguely remembered seeing it all those years ago. Once again, Tony regretted telling Steve anything.

“Well, I thought it was cute,” Steve had said. “Reminded me of you.”

“Purple isn’t my color,” Tony grumbled weakly, reluctant to go into any further detail.

Steve had just shrugged and told him it was too late to change now. It was bad enough that he’d be walking around with a goddamn wrist strap, but having the stupid little dragon constantly on display was pushing it.

So Tony stared. And Figment smiled back. He was half-afraid that Figment might break out into song if he wasn’t watched. Tony might tear his hair out or, worse, start sobbing hysterically if that happened. That could not be allowed.

“You doing okay, Tony?” Steve asked, putting a hand on his shoulder and breaking his concentration.

“What?” Tony said as he broke out of his daze and looked to Steve. “No. No, no, I’m not okay really. I’m still wondering why I agreed to this.”

“Just give it a chance,” Steve said, reaching over to take his hand. “No one ever liked anything they didn’t want to like.”

“There’s alotta things I don’t want to like; cabbage, folk music, long-winded novels. I live very well preemptively removing certain things that I know I won’t like from my life.”

“Sounds like a good recipe for getting bored,” Steve commented, giving Tony a raised brow as well as an affectionate smile. “Good thing I’m more stubborn than you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tony shot back before continuing at a hurried pace. “Still wondering why you got solid blue and I couldn’t get red.”

“You’re special so I wanted to get you something special.” He gave his own wristband a thoughtful glance. “If it’d make you happy, maybe I’ll see about getting a different one with something I like on it.”

Tony huffed and rolled his eyes. Where did Steve get off presuming that Tony liked something he hadn’t seen in thirty years? Or that he was a good kind of special? Never mind that Steve was almost always right about him, Tony wasn’t going to let him get away with that.

“It wouldn’t,” Tony said, leaning up against Steve. It was a weak response, but he wasn’t ready to give in just yet.

“Well. Purple does look nice on you, you know,” Steve said, putting an arm around Tony.

A muffled groan escaped Tony’s throat, but he was out of steam when it came to fighting Steve on the subject. He’d been out of steam for weeks, really. For every complaint he made, Steve had a calm, sensible point in response. Tony didn’t understand how anyone could be so positive all the time. It was as infuriating as it was endearing. But who even knew? Maybe he was just being unreasonable. Maybe.

 

*****

 

Tony stared up at their hotel through his sunglasses. It was a wide U-shaped building, made up of red clay and thatched roofing. Most of it had to be a facade. No way would something that authentic get past building codes. Just above the sliding doors, an intentionally crude plaque read “welcome home”. Tony did not feel particularly at home. Even just standing there, gripping his bag’s handle tight, he was already feeling on edge and lied to. On top of that, the humidity was nigh unbearable, especially for it being mid-fall. He was beginning to question Steve’s taste in resorts.

Steve seemed positively giddy already. He’d delayed grabbing his luggage to step back and take in the front of the place. Tony was well-aware that Steve smiled more often than he didn’t, but he’d rarely seen an expression of sheer excitement on his face. He’d nearly busted the car door in his hurry to get out and look. Tony was left confused. Was the most exciting thing in their lives really a themed resort? After they’d fought aliens and gods and mad robots? If anything, this was downright mundane. Tony was just glad that Steve wasn’t insisting on taking their picture in front of the thing.

It took a good three minutes before Steve had finally had his fill of the front of the building and he retrieved his own bag. From there he shut the trunk, thanked their driver, and turned back to Tony.

“Want me to carry that?” he asked, eying Tony’s bag.

“No, I can handle it,” Tony insisted curtly, raising his chin up.

Steve gave a laugh before taking his hand and leading them both inside.

Following the blast of cool air, Tony looked up to find them at the front of a wide open lobby with natural sunlight filtering in from a the window that served as the entire back wall. Bridges stretched off from balconies up above, connecting the higher levels. Everything, absolutely everything, was either naturalistic or animal-themed or African flavored. There was even a faint sound of some mixture of drums, panpipes, and incomprehensible singing playing somewhere nearby. It was a huge amount to take in all at once. Tony swallowed thickly. No walking out now; he was in too deep. At the same time, his brain seemed to have stopped working and he had no idea where to go or what to do.

Thank God Steve knew what he was doing. He gently led Tony over to the reception desk, not far off to the right.

“Jambo!” the woman behind the desk said as they approached. She looked to be in her late 20s and wore a tan khaki suit that made her look vaguely like some kind of turn-of-the-century explorer.

Tony narrowed his eyes at her and stayed quiet. He suspected he was being spoke to in code, something he would never learn how to respond to.

“Jambo,” Steve replied in turn. “We have reservations under Rogers.”

She turned her attention to the monitor in front of her, double-clicking on its mouse once before turning back to them.

“Two beds, savannah view Rogers?”

“That’d be us.”

“Then you’re all set. Room 2249, that’s the second floor right down the hall thataway.” She leaned over and pointed up and behind the desk. “Either of your bands will open the room. If you have any questions, just ask, and please feel free to poke around. Welcome home, Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, giving her a modest nod and heading towards the stairway up.

Tony rolled his eyes as soon as she was out of view. How could anyone buy that little spiel? It sounded rehearsed, but so rehearsed that she actually started to mean it after the 20th time of saying it in the mirror. Tony would know; he’d done the same thing for plenty of his speeches.  
He broke off from Steve as the reached the steps and grabbed his bag’s handle with both hands before edging it up the first couple steps with effort. Maybe bringing his good laptop had been a mistake. Or the spare pliers. But Tony was not going to be caught off guard so haul he did, even as Steve easily passed him by and disappeared up the stairs. Tony half-considered taking him up on his offer to carry both their luggage, but pride won in the end.

It had to have been at least ten minutes before Tony finally managed his way up to the near-end of the stairs. He had to say, he was pleased with himself for not taking any breaks in between. That was a sign of superior endurance for sure.

“What’d you pack, a ton of bricks?” Steve asked, giving him a repressed smirk from the top of the steps.

“You told me one bag and I need my things just in case-” Tony fired back as he finally cleared the final step and dragged his luggage up with him. “-so don’t blame me.”

“It was a suggestion, not an order.”

“And I was supposed to know that how?”

“I’m not gonna give you orders about how to pack, Tony.” His expression fell and he eyed Tony cautiously. “You didn’t bring any armor, did you?”

“What? No,” Tony fibbed out of hand. Maybe he had brought one of his collapsibles, but it was only just in case. “Of course not, that’s- you told me this was strictly pleasure.” That Tony considered his armor and tech toys very much pleasure was something he wasn’t gonna disclose just then.

“Uh-huh,” Steve mumbled with a raised eyebrow. “I think I know you well enough to know what pleasures you.” He winked as he said it, but there was still something almost disappointed underneath it which made Tony’s stomach drop.

They made their way down the hall in silence. Once again he wondered what he was doing there in the first place; Steve ought to bring someone who’d actually enjoy the place. He didn’t want to ruin Steve’s good time like he’d known he would eventually.

Lost in his inner moping, Tony didn’t see Steve stop abruptly in front of him and walked straight into him.

“What-?”

He only managed the one word before Steve reached over and bodily turned him so they both were looking out the window that Tony hadn’t even noticed. He blinked against the evening sunlight and found himself looking over a lush green grassland. Sparse trees dotted the land, growing thicker farther back on the field. A couple giraffes wandered about, along with some funny-looking hairy pig things. The horizon beyond was splashed orange and pink as the sun dipped lower and lower.

“Look at that,” Steve breathed.

Even Tony had to admit that, yeah, the view was pretty nice. Picturesque even. Pretty obviously artificial, but still picturesque. It could have passed as an African reserve for people who had never been to Africa in their life.

“Come on, while there’s still daylight,” Steve said before tugging him along once again. Between his luggage and Steve’s strength, Tony briefly worried one of his arms might come out of its socket, but he managed in the end.

They didn’t have to walk long from there; room 2249 was just around the bend. Tony breathed a sigh of relief as he read its marker. Finally, he wouldn’t have to lug around his bag anymore. At least until next week, anyway. Just as the lady had said, there was a RFID reader on the door. The two of them exchanged a glance and with a skeptical look at both the reader and his band, Steve brought his up to the door. Sure enough, there was a click and the door slid out of place.

“Magic,” Tony said, an air of sarcasm in the word.

“Magic,” Steve echoed, nodding before pushing his way inside.

If the light gasp was any indication, Steve was pleased with what he saw. Tony made his way in and gave a brief look around for somewhere to put his bag. He found a corner right away, just next to the television cabinet in front of their bed. With that albatross off his back, Tony ditched his sunglasses on their coffee table and flopped sideways onto their bed and let out a sigh. It wasn’t his own bed, but it was pretty damn comfortable, he had to admit.

But just as he was getting comfortable, he tilted his head to the side and noticed a towel folded into a very familiar shape. Tony sat up to get a better look at it, sure enough, they were having a mouse problem. Tony could tolerate the enthusiasm, the theming, the atmosphere of the place, but he couldn’t tolerate having a Mickey Mouse shaped towel put into his temporary living space for any reason. With that thought, he swept it off the bed and was disappointed that it held its shape even on the floor.

“Tony, someone made that for us,” Steve chided him. He’d begun unpacking his bag and putting his clothes in their drawer, an act which Tony saw no point in.

“Please, everyone gets these things, it’s probably mass produced.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve said, walking over to pick up the towel and bring it over to the coffee table in the back of the room. “And you should be appreciative anyway.”

Tony gave a grunt of admission, even if he still didn’t see what was so special about a towel in a shape. If Steve saw something in it, there must have been something to it. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so hasty. He laid back on the bed and shut his eyes.

Tony didn’t really fall asleep, but he did fall into a semi-doze. He could hear Steve moving around and occasionally cooing or gasping over something. Once again, he had to wonder what was so special about this place that had Steve captivated. Was it something in the air? The “magic” he’d heard so much about? He was a bit surprised he hadn’t turned into a drooling happy moron.

His sort-of nap was interrupted by a hand tugging his arm. He opened his eyes and found Steve smiling gently down at him, too damn beautiful for his own good with the late evening light washing over him. The sheer, unfiltered affection in his eyes on top of that could have made Tony cry, but he only returned the smile.

“You should see the view,” Steve said, though, Tony wasn’t sure if he’d heard right.

“I’m not?” Tony asked, sleep in his voice.

“Ha. From our balcony, ya goof,” he clarified.

“Right. I knew that.”

Tony allowed himself to be hauled up to his feet, but as soon as he was there, he pitched forward to kiss Steve hard on the lips. Steve let out a laugh of surprise yet still kissed back without any fuss. He put an arm around Tony and held him there as they made it last, licking and nipping at each other’s lips wherever they could manage. It wasn’t a struggle, but they did compete for dominance over what direction the kiss took. Tony looking for access into Steve’s mouth and Steve keeping him firmly in his place. They separated from each other as little as possible until Tony finally had to pull back to breathe.

“Why don’t you and me take some time for ourselves and, uh, make the place feel like home?” Tony suggested, glancing towards their bathroom door.

“I can get behind that,” Steve said before leaning down to pick Tony up like he was weightless.

“About time you started talking sense, you haven’t-” It was then that Tony realized that Steve was not carrying him to their bathroom. No, he was heading straight for the open sliding door leading out onto their balcony

“Hang up, this is not what I meant,” Tony protested weakly.

“I know,” Steve said, continuing on his way. “But we’ll have plenty more chances for that later. We only have one chance to watch the sunset on our first day here.”

“You’re so neglectful,” Tony said, though, he didn’t struggle as he was settled onto one of the chairs looking out over the fields.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Steve told him, offering a wink as he sat down himself and took Tony’s hand.

Tony couldn’t argue with that. He certainly couldn’t argue when Steve was holding his hand so tenderly. It was a nice, comfortable pressure, both their arms hanging there between them, entwined at their fingers. A simple gesture that reminded Tony why he’d grown to love Steve.  
His gaze drifted out over the faux-savannah where Steve seemed to be looking. Some giraffes and a stray zebra were lazily roving around. He could hear people talking somewhere in the distance, but it was too far away to be bothersome.

“It’s not bad,” he said, more on impulse than thought.

“You think so?”

“No. I mean, I do. I guess- I’m getting used to it.”

“I knew you would.”

“Of course I would. And you would. Well, you wouldn’t get used to it, you wanted this in the first place, but...” Tony stopped himself, sat up in his chair, and breathed in deep. “We’re both here and I wouldn’t be here without you and that’s what’s important. I barely get out of the door on a normal day without you, why wouldn’t it be?”

Steve had watched him with the greatest of patience and interest the entire time. His smile widened as Tony finished, but he didn’t say anything just then. Instead he edged his chair over to Tony’s with a few annoying scrapes on the floor and put an arm around him.

“You’re trying, Tony, I know. We both are.”

“You’re having most of the success.”

“Well, I haven’t punched through any walls yet and you haven’t had a meltdown so I’d say we’re both doing pretty good for ourselves so far.”

“Yeah. Guess we are.”

“‘Course we are,” Steve said, giving Tony’s middle a good-natured squeeze. “We’ve always done better as a team.”

Tony felt the corners of his mouth try to turn up and leaned his head against Steve in an effort to hide it. He felt like he was being dragged along by Steve nine times out of ten and here Steve was telling him that he was a contributing member of the team. Of their partnership.

“Sure,” he agreed tentatively “Wouldn’t call myself the better half of us.”

“Well, I would. You’re my better half, that’s for sure.”

Tony let out a breathy laugh at that.

“I- I don’t even have any right to compare myself to either of your halves. Or any of you.”

Steve frowned and let a long sigh.

“Makes me sad when you say things like that, you know?” Steve said, gaze drifting off to the side. “You sound so sad.”

“I’m not,” Tony said, even if he wasn’t entirely sure it was the whole truth. “I’m really not.”

Steve looked him in the eye for a long moment before nodding.

“I believe you. I just want us to both be happy with each other. At least more than we have been. And we have been, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do think,” Tony agreed, nuzzling against Steve as the last flecks of sunlight disappeared on the horizon.

Steve reached over with his free hand to hold Tony’s once again. His fingers drifted over Tony’s palm, feeling over the natural indentation and callouses there. He was still watching the horizon in front of them, but his interest was keenly focused on Tony. Just like his affection was focused on him as well. That honest affection still struck him as strange, even after years of being with Steve, but he wanted to believe that he deserved it. If Steve saw something in him then maybe he would see it too some day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least my fanfiction isn't any worse than Disney's regarding Energy's replacement. The excuse for the Guardians of the Galaxy ride they're putting in in Energy's place is, put simply, "Peter Quill went to Epcot once as a child, therefore Guardians fits". Now, I like the idea of Peter going to Epcot as a child, I think it makes sense for him. It doesn't, however, make sense for Epcot's character for there to be a Guardians ride in it. That's bad fanfiction if I've ever seen it. And, worse still, the ride likely won't open until 2020. Insult meet injury.
> 
> Pardon my emotional ramblings about theme parks. This fic's notes may or may not become a dumping ground for those. They are what keeps me writing this thing, after all.


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